This is the third installment of my featured author series on the Cocoon. I have argued in part 1 that skilled performance (I focused on skilled epistemic practices such as birding and reading x-ray scans, but the point can be generalized) has a unique phenomenology. I will now examine how my cognitive account of skilled performance can shed light on this.
I remember when I bought my lute (quite a while ago now!), the lutemaker said that initially, there'd be a large distance between me and the instrument, but eventually, we would grow closer and it would feel like second nature to play it (he gestured it by holding the lute far away from his body, then slowly holding it closer and closer). He was right. A lute is not ergonomically designed: its awkward sleek pear shape drops from one's lap, the neck seems to broad to play comfortably, the strings' tension seems too loose (especially when you are a guitarist), but gradually I overcame all these obstacles and I am now an decent enough (albeit not an expert) player.
When I pick up the instrument to play now, it doesn't seem to require any conscious effort, and often, there is a positive sense of focused enjoyment in the absence of conscious effort (a state termed "flow", although Dicey Jennings prefers "conscious entrainment" because it is not always a positive affect). How did I get to that point?
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